


xxx; A Heartfelt Talk with Team Zero

by Theo_Thaur



Series: 31 Days of TUA Whump [30]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon Related, Diego Hargreeves-centric, Episode: s02e06 A Light Supper, Gen, Heartache, Heartbreak, Hurt Diego Hargreeves, Team Zero (Umbrella Academy), Whump, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:08:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27314566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theo_Thaur/pseuds/Theo_Thaur
Summary: Whumptober 2020 submission. No 30. "NOW WHERE DID THAT COME FROM?": Wound Reveal, Ignoring an Injury, Internal Organ Injury.-----Diego explains the origins of a wound to Vanya, and Luther offers some unimportant opinions. Diego internally confronts his changing relationship with Lila, and his defeat in fighting Reginald.(Takes place as an extension of a conversation within S2 EP6, technically canon divergent because Luther is aware of Diego having been stabbed in the stomach.)
Relationships: Diego Hargreeves & Luther Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves & Luther Hargreeves & Vanya Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves & Vanya Hargreeves, Luther Hargreeves & Vanya Hargreeves
Series: 31 Days of TUA Whump [30]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1951234
Kudos: 23
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	xxx; A Heartfelt Talk with Team Zero

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGERS: canon-typical violence, gore.

_xxx; A Heartfelt Talk with Team Zero_

_"We go in there as a united front. No more 'Number One,' 'Number Two' bullshit. From now on it's… Team Zero."_

Diego extended his fists out towards Luther and Vanya, waiting for a fist bump that didn't come. Putting his arms down, he averted his gaze. It was awkward for a few moments, just the noise of Luther shifting in the leather chair. Diego stood, clearing his throat and picking the dinner invitation dad had given them up off the table, re-reading it as he'd done so many times. Luther continued to eat at the large plate of scrambled eggs he'd made himself, and Vanya looked around the electronics store.

"Uh, Diego… you were _stabbed_?" Vanya asked after a moment, referencing back to the casual mention of that earlier in the conversation. She seemed concerned but Diego couldn't tell if it was a conversation starter or a genuine ask about his well-being.

"People get stabbed all the time," he grunted, moving away from the lounge area to look out over the railing. Sunlight streamed in through the large, industrial windows. 

"I… don't think that's true," Vanya answered.

"Mm, he's just like that 'cause dad did it," Luther informed, taking a break from his eggs to try and be helpful. "Usually he _loves_ showing off scars."

"Hey. Don't take advantage of her amnesia," Diego asserted, turning around and leaning his lower back against the railing. "It wasn't a fair fight," he explained, looking over at Vanya and trying to persuade her into that side of the story. He was sure he would've been successful had it not been for that stupid fucking shank. There came a day in every rebellious teenager's life that they thought, 'you know what? I could beat my dad up,' except Diego had never matured past that stage. So what if he'd always thought about getting his pound of flesh? So what if he'd used Reginald as a motivation to get stronger, and make a positive impact on the world? So what if he'd always wanted to ensure Reginald got what was coming to him? The bastard had earned all that on his own. They'd tangled, they'd struck each other finally --something he hadn't thought he'd get to do after he received the news about the funeral. It hadn't been satisfying, or freeing, because he still had unfinished business, the same unfinished business he'd vowed to come back to one day, the morning he left the academy for good. 

Some part of Diego was happy to have not finished the fight. If he beat Reginald, this supervillain, this larger-than-life archnemesis --who would he be then? What would he really have to work for in life? That was where he'd always seen future peace, but Diego didn't know peace. He just knew fights, knew keeping everything in order and never looking back, even though he was still trapped like he'd been all those years under Reginald's thumb. What would he do with himself when everything came full circle, when he accomplished the integral goal that had driven him? What came after the hero's journey, and how could that ever be a life worth living?

"It wasn't a fair fight," Diego repeated, adamant.

It was probably cowardly to not want to fight dad when he'd come closer to it than he had in years, but there was a reason Diego had never fully committed to re-visiting the academy in his adult life. It was a familiar power trip to think about, but maybe that was all it was? If it were nothing more than a fantasy, did that make him a coward?

"And for the record, okay, I never liked to show off my scars," he added.

"Yes you did!" Luther exclaimed, the scrambled eggs halfway to his mouth. "He did!" Luther insisted, looking over at Vanya. 

"When did I do that?" Diego asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Ugh, they're on your _face_. I can see them right now!" Luther argued, before finally eating that bite of eggs.

"I didn't get to _choose_ where I have scars," Diego deadpanned. Luther didn't say anything, he put his head down and ate. Diego sighed, pushing off the railing and moving back into the sitting area. 

"I think someone should look at it," Vanya suggested, only when it became clear she wouldn't have to take part in an argument from a time she couldn't remember. She gestured loosely at Diego, "the stab wound I mean."

"Somebody already did," he answered with a sigh, sitting down.

"Who?" Luther asked quickly, looking up from his food with scrambled eggs in his mouth.

"Same girl I brought up during the family meeting. You didn't seem interested then," Diego said, a little pointedly. Didn't help that they were talking about Lila, but he surprised himself, standing up. "You want an eyeful? Be my guest." He untucked his shirt, taking out the last few buttons to spread the orange fabric apart. Diego stood like that for a moment in front of Vanya, holding his chin high. She could look all she wanted, he didn't care. It had barely hurt anyways. Vanya took in a breath like she was going to say something, and Diego welcomed it. Nothing she could say about the injury would get to him. He was strong.

"I can't see it… you're wearing a black undershirt," she said. Diego blinked, quickly looking down at himself.

"Oh. Right." He pushed that up, past his stomach, and double-checked that the white bandage was indeed peeking out. Thinking about how Lila had taken him in and cauterized the wound made him uncomfortable, even as his fingertips brushed slightly against the medical tape to keep the shirt held up last his stomach. Every nerve on fire, the sizzling of skin like _meat_ as she pressed the hot metal relentlessly down against his flesh, sealing the wound. Diego had falsely believed that her making sure he didn't bleed out while unconscious was some sort of sign, proof she'd go through a lot to be there. But cauterizing someone else's wound, washing it with alcohol --that hadn't affected her at all, she could do it hundreds of times. It was never painful to touch someone else's skin, Diego had just been foolish enough to think that she shared some of his pain. 

He should've been the one to fix and dress his own puncture. He didn't need her to do it, to burn him like that with little sign for remorse and not much more care than tossing him pain medication after. Diego could numb his own problems just fine without her complicating it, and he'd managed on his own for so long already. When he was caring for his own needs at least he'd think to bring something to bite down on, so he didn't have to lock his jaw back to keep from chewing straight through his tongue. 

"See?! He's showing off. Like I said," Luther burst out. Diego gave him a look.

"This was dressed really nicely, whoever she was she knew what she was doing," Vanya complimented, looking over the exposed skin. Diego pushed away a wave of annoyance. He could've done basically the same.

"Who made you the expert?" Luther asked, not so mude rude, just curious.

Vanya smiled a little, "Sissy, she had me learn about first aid, just in case Harlan ran into trouble and she was out getting groceries." Her expression dimmed a little, Diego recalled her mentioning feeling shitty, but he had no clue if she'd been more specific. He'd dealt with his own shit. "Does this hurt?" Vanya asked, suddenly leaning forward from the couch and poking him in the stomach. Diego stumbled away from her hand, knocking the back of his calf against the coffee table and making books and pens atop it jitter.

"Yes, that hurts!" He hissed, embarrassed he hadn't gotten any warning. Even if Luther hadn't laughed, Diego was still keenly aware of his presence in the room. "You hit me in the stomach!"

"I poked you," she corrected, cocking her head a little. "You have these dark purple splotches, bruises, all over your abdomen." Diego pulled the overshirt back down his stomach, stepping away from the coffee table and her, retreating.

"Dad roughed you up good?" Luther asked, again sounding just curious.

"No. That was the Swedes," Diego replied sharply. Reginald had also hit him during the fight, but he didn't want Luther thinking that Reginald had done even better in beating him up. "They've been after Five. It was two on one and you should've seen the other guys," he grumbled, defending himself.

"I mean, it was bad though, your bruising," she said, glancing over at Luther, who had missed it since Diego's back had been turned to him. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Diego recalled the fight in the Mexican Consulate. Shoves, kicks, sucker punches. The garroting wire had been so tight, when he thought about it he still felt the phantom sensation, something so thin being so dangerous, enough to nearly cut off his windpipe. It looked modest and unassuming, but it had been such a selective pressure against the delicate part of his neck, clamping down and making it hard to breathe. It had been terrifying. Within inches of death, begging for his life, for Lila to save him, and she'd turned away. He hadn't wanted to be near her after the fight was over, her very presence --or had it been the blows to his internal organs?-- had made him nauseous. So close to death, and she hadn't shown up for him. Lila had betrayed him, making everything else she'd told him took false, and he hated her for getting his trust so easily. She'd even ran down the stairs after Five, when he'd still had those two Swedes on him and the one that had been attacking Five had gone through a window. Lila couldn't have spared a _moment_ of her time.

"I'm okay," Diego said. At the least the bruising would heal. That's what bruises did. The knife wound however, might continue to be a staple of his body. Ironic wasn't it? Knives were his thing, the lifeblood of the value he'd once had, as determined under the Hargreeves' roof. Diego thought he was more comfortable than anyone else out there with blades; they were his territory, his weapon of choice, as familiar as the lines in his palm. Reginald hadn't known what he'd been doing when he'd used a shank, he didn't have memory of any of them. Reginald had just wanted to end the fight swiftly, unjustly. It had meant next to nothing for the man, but to Diego, his father was taking away his greatest power and _ally_ , using it against him with ease, showing him that he still wasn't good enough even at what he did best. "It doesn't really matter. We've got a few hours before it's time to make good on the invite. In the meantime, we have to round up the others," Diego buttoned his shirt back up as he spoke, leaving it untucked. "We gotta get ready to _see_ the old man."


End file.
